Sometimes the distance between a father and son is just a matter of ski line.

By Jason Johnson Photos by Tom Newby

Halfway between Catalina Island and Long Beach, Calif., in the Pacific Ocean, skier John Kompaniez was fighting his way over swells and signaling for the boat to slow down.

But his dad, Peter Kompaniez was at the wheel, and he wasn't going to let a little fatigue stop his son. So he kept running his Cigarette 42 Tiger near 60 mph. Finally, after watching the skier get a little out of shape, observer Justin Soller stepped in and became the family mediator.

Soller hollered at the elder Kompaniez to slow the pace and he relented, only to gradually pick up the speed a minute or two later.

This was my introduction to the intense atmosphere in the cockpit of a boat during the Catalina Water Ski Race in July. It's a focused, high-energy environment where everything is about getting the skier to Catalina Island and back as fast as possible.

At 35 years old, John Kompaniez of Huntington Beach, Calif., is a fit triathlete who has skied the Catalina Water Ski Race since he was a teenager. In fact, this was the 21st time he has made the 52-mile journey. And for many of those trips his father was the one behind the wheel.

Skiers like John don't expect to win outright, but they are fierce competitors who will finish within five to 10 minutes of the elite skiers like seven-time winner Todd Haig. Although this may be their only race each year, it is these skiers who inspire and impress. From the first time I covered the race for this magazine a few years ago, I wanted to be a part of it.

Skiing would be left to the pros—I value my knees too much. My strength was observation. So there I was in the cockpit with Peter, Soller and Powerboat's Bob Teague, who served as the navigator. Peter and Teague go way back. The 42 Tiger we were riding in had the first pair of Teague Custom Marine 1100 EFI engines built.

I had a fair idea of what it would be like to be in one of the high-horsepower machines with a skier in tow as we raced toward Queens Gate, a 100-yard-wide passageway from Long Beach Harbor into the rolling Pacific swells. But I still couldn't believe the skiers were able to hang on through the massive, washing-machine-like chop at the start.

The need for an excellent driver, one who could keep a steady speed and navigate the boat traffic, was at once obvious and absolute—as was the relationship between the observer and the racer. Soller, an accomplished ski racer, joined Team Bottom Line Racing for the first time. Soller had won national and world championships in Formula 2 ski-race competition and was an ideal person to keep an eye on John.

As the smaller boats left the starting line, we dropped John in the water. Soller was by his side nearly the entire time, making sure they were on the same page. The observer sat on the engine hatch and slowly fed the rope out as John gradually drifted away. By the time the start flares were shot into the air, John was a bright green spec about 200 feet from the transom. I watched closely as he popped right out of the water.

My attention shifted from the skier to the score of boats that were running alongside us. Adding to the distraction was the eight to 10 helicopters who were following the action from the air.

As we got past the breakwater, the teams started to spread out, although there were a few close encounters. The boats tried to stay at least 30 feet apart, but the waves and chop would sometimes bring them closer together.

One skier, a friend of John's, playfully flipped us the bird when we got a little too close for his comfort. (At least I thought it was playful.)

Soller was focused on John the entire race. He never took his eyes off him and kept signaling to John when the boat was speeding up or slowing down. Most of the time he was pumping his arm into the air to give John the encouragement to power through the fatigue.

Although he was facing backward and standing between Peter and Teague's bolster seats, there was no doubt Soller was in charge. He had John's best interest in mind and wouldn't let Peter speed up when John kept signaling with his left hand to slow down.

John didn't get out of shape often, but when he did, Soller read the situation almost before it happened and told Peter to ease up. Peter slowed the boat, but his reluctance to back off the throttles was obvious. Still, when it came to protecting John from harm, Peter responded.

On the way to Catalina, Peter was driving faster than 60 mph for most of the way. On the journey back, fatigue hit John and Peter had to pull back to the low- to mid-50-mph range.

Although the return speed—and a couple of near falls—indicated John's exhaustion, he prevailed, finishing the grueling race in 61 minutes, 49 seconds, which was good for second in his class (Senior Men) and 14th overall. I wasn't surprised that John had the energy to finish the race—he knows what it takes to go the distance.

A son dug deep to succeed. His father pushed him to dig deeper. When the son reached the edge of his ability, the father backed off. Between the father and son, a friend made sure everyone was on the same page. It was fascinating. And touching.

As we idled back to the docks, it occurred to me that only a special family could pull this off, year after year. The son endures the pull while the father pushes, but in the end John and Peter Kompaniez take care of their own.

Ski Race Winning Streaks Continue

After winning the Catalina Water Ski Race, Kim Lumley pulled up to the victory dock and expected to find Todd Haig standing there holding a checkered flag. It's been a four-year tradition for the duo, who have come to dominate the high-speed endurance ski race.

"If Todd is happy to win, I'm quite happy to win," said Britain's Lumley, who captured her fifth Women's Open title in less than an hour.

"She makes my job easy," said Lee Spindler, who drove the 43-foot Schiada for Lumley. "I just push the sticks forward and we come collect a checkered flag."

Lumley said this year's race was tougher than past victories because of the tragedy that struck the water-ski racing world. Good friend and fellow countrymen Karl Brooks, 25, died in an accident while training on Nevada's Lake Mead in June.

"There's been a lot going on this year, things just sometimes fly around your head," Lumley said. "I'm happy how I skied but it was tough for me."

Billed as the "world's greatest water ski race," the event is a flat-out run from California's Long Beach Harbor to Catalina Island and back to the mainland. Skiers are pulled behind some of the West Coast's best high-performance V-bottoms.

Right now there is no one better than Haig, who has won the Men's Open division seven times since 2000. Last year Haig had to come from behind to win after one of his boat's engines wouldn't fire up at the start of the race.

This year the skier had a little less drama but it was still a hard-fought win. When approaching the turn buoy near Catalina Island, driver Randy Davis was slightly off-course and had to cut through some of the spectator fleet. Overcast skies made it difficult to see the turn buoy.

"I saw one of the (boats) moving a little bit one way," Davis said. "He had it in reverse and I gaped it through."

Haig was being pushed hard by Australian skier Peter Proctor on the return leg. But Proctor fell and Haig went on to win in 51 minutes, 33 seconds.

Although Haig said he wasn't feeling 100 percent, it was enough to capture his seventh Catalina Water Ski Race.

"It was one of those mornings when you wake up and think maybe I didn't have enough sleep last night or didn't eat the right thing," said Haig, who got engaged a few days before the race.

It also was the first year they used a 47-foot Cyclone from Nordic Boats—the company Davis purchased at the end of 2005—to run the race. They did a couple of practice runs to Catalina Island to make sure the offshore boat was running to everyone's liking.

Although Haig has established his own dynasty, he's still far short of the great Chuck Stearn's 11 titles.

"I'm hoping for 12," Haig said.

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